Sidekicks
by IShouldBeOverThis
Summary: AU - No powers Steve and Bucky have been friends since childhood until one night changes things, but Steve is oblivious to something everyone else in their gang of friends already knows.
1. Something in the Air is Giving Me Bad Id

"You know you will never be able to out-drink Nat or Maria, right? And having gotten you drunk they will make you do something embarrassing?"

"M'not drunk," returned Steve, which was exactly the moment that he tripped on the curb. He glared at it accusingly. "M'not! Anyway, even if I was drunk before they dared me to sing Whitney Houston, I certainly sobered up after everyone started threatening violence if I didn't sit down and shut up."

"Well," laughed Bucky. "If we'd actually been in a Karaoke bar..."

"Shut up. Just because they didn't dare you to do anything stupid...!"

"Yeah, because I know better than to challenge them," Bucky laughed, easily walking backwards without tripping, to Steve's annoyance. Bucky had always been lighter on his feet.

"Won't make that mistake again."

Bucky stopped and gripped Steve's shoulder, shaking his head, "Steve, Stevie, Steve-o, you say that every time, and every time Nat yells 'Tequilla shots!' you go charging in. You got off easy tonight. 'Member that time Maria made you put on eyeliner and lipstick freshman year? Or the infamous streaking incident of two thousand eig—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yuk it up. I just don't get it. I must outweigh them by 125 pounds, how do they stay so sober?"

"You've been asking that since high school, buddy. If you haven't figured it out yet... 'Tash has been drinking vodka since she was six, and Maria had four older brothers. She's been playing drinking games since the first one went off to college.

"Oh, and Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I recommend never mentioning their weight. EVER. You'll be sporting a lot more than a wounded ego. Welp, this is you. Go nurse your pride, up you go."

Bucky was already pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter as they came up to Steve's building. Steve disapproved of his smoking so he held off until they were saying goodbye. He tilted his head as he cupped his hand around the flame and his hair, still long after some off-Broadway show from a few months before, fell across his cheek.

My God, thought Steve, he's beautiful. Of course he knew that Bucky was handsome; he'd spent two years on a soap opera, with fans lining up outside the studio. And there were a string of lovers of all genders ready to testify to his sex appeal. But something about the moment, the glow of the flame, the way Bucky's full lips looked around the cigarette, his euphoric expression as he took the first drag, seemed different this time, made Steve's mouth go dry and a dangerous itch light up under his skin.

"So," he stumbled, then started again, "Um, do you want to come up for a coffee." Why was his voice suddenly so low and rough?

Bucky glanced up at him from under dark lashes, and the thick weight of his hair. He grinned and took the cigarette out of his mouth as he stashed the pack and lighter in the inner pocket of his leather jacket. "Not for nothing, Steve, but usually when people ask me that that way, they're asking how I take it in the morning too." It was light and teasing, innocent. Steve was straight, Bucky was bi, and they'd never been anything more than friends since they'd met on the playground some 25 years earlier.

Steve swallowed. This was either the worst decision of his life, or the best. His head felt too muddy to be sure. "Do you prefer scrambled eggs or sunny side up?"

Bucky opened his mouth to say something, a look of concern in his eyes, but then he stopped and seemed to gaze off somewhere over Steve's shoulder for a moment as if working something out in his head. His eyes met Steve's again and he grinned, "Ok then, what're we waiting for?" He flicked the cigarette away. Steve was too bothered by his heated feelings to complain.

Steve fumbled with the lock for a moment then held the door open. "After you."

Bucky chuckled and stepped into the stairwell that led up to Steve's apartment over the bodega. Steve followed and let the door swing shut behind him leaving them in total darkness.

"Dammit, I knew that bulb was about to burn out. I should've—mmpf!" His words were swallowed by Bucky's mouth on his, messy and forceful in the dark. They fumbled their way up the stairs, Bucky half pulling and Steve half pushing until they reached the door to Steve's apartment. He only managed to get the door open, keys still in the lock, before Bucky was yanking him inside. Fortunately the stairs were Steve's private entrance as they left the door half open behind them, still kissing, Bucky trying to push Steve's jacket from his shoulders and tug them both towards Steve's bedroom.

Bucky gave up on Steve's jacket and pulled away to shed his own. He toed off his loafers and laughed as Steve had to struggle with the laces on his sneakers. He took the moment to pull his shirt off over his head, eyes bright, teasing Steve to come after him, then smirked as he undid the button of his jeans, his wide, expressive mouth curling up at the sides.

Steve growled and lunged at Bucky as soon as his shoes were off, crowding Bucky up against the island that separated the main room from the kitchenette, and kissing him open mouthed and deep, as Bucky worked open the buttons of Steve's shirt.

"Fuck, Steve," Bucky managed when Steve began to attack his neck, "I'm pretty sure you have a bedroom, or are we doing this on the kitchen floor?"

"Bed," Steve whispered, half lifting Bucky off the ground in his eagerness and manhandling him down the short hallway to his bedroom. Bucky dropped heavily onto Steve's neatly made bed, and gazed up at Steve lazily while Steve undid his shirt completely and tossed it onto the floor.

"God, Bucky, you are gorgeous. I want you so much right now," he murmured, half to himself, half aloud.

Bucky sat up and smiled, coy and appealing, "Just give me a sec." He hopped off the bed and went across the hall to the bathroom leaving Steve to strip and turn down the sheets.

Bucky came back into the room, naked, a hand towel over his groin as if to protect his modesty.

"Jesus, Buck…" Steve whispered.

He'd seen Bucky naked dozens of times in their lives, from skinny dipping on Long Island to changing in the gym, but never like this. He took Bucky's body in with new eyes, the broad shoulders, firm pecs, taut abs. Bucky tracked Steve's gaze and let his arm fall to reveal his erect cock. Bucky wasn't shaved but his pubic hair was trimmed and he was uncut.

For the first time Bucky seemed shy, nervous even. "Steve, look, I know that this…if you don't really… I was kind of teasing before, and, with the tequila and-"

Bucky smiled, a strange little shy smile, one Steve had never seen before, and he thought he'd had all of Bucky's many smiles categorized. It was still sensual, when were Bucky's full lips ever less than sensual, but there was a sweetness to it that reminded Steve a little of childhood. He stood, awkwardly, left arm partially hidden behind him, towel still dangling from his right hand.

"You don't have to hide your arm, Bucky, I was there when it happened, and each time you were in the hospital."

Bucky brought his left arm forward in its black sheath and crossed it in front of his chest. "Force of habit, I guess. Never sure how people will react."

When Bucky was ten his little sister Rebecca had pulled a pot of boiling water off of the stove. Bucky had shoved her out of the way, taking all of the water, the pasta, and the heavy pot onto his left arm. Third degree burns had required skin grafts which became infected and had to be redone, then more operations as he grew to keep the scar tissue from limiting his range of motion. With a lot of physical and occupational therapy he had regained almost full mobility, but the arm was a mix of pink and white scarred striations. He wore a neoprene sleeve over it at all times from his elbow to his palm, with only his fingers exposed. It was a testament to his good looks, talent, and charm that it had never impeded his acting career. He'd almost always had white doctor's coats on or latex gloves in all of his scenes in the soap. His interviews in the soap mags always mentioned it and it made his fans love him even more.

"Come here," Steve said, gently. Then, "I mean if you still want…because I know we've never…but I…I really want you right now, but if you'd feel better…"

Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, the flirty, confident Bucky was back, all doubt seemingly erased. "Just leave it to me, baby, I'll take care of everything," Bucky said as he climbed onto the bed tossing a few condoms onto the sheets.

"Good," Steve whispered, "because I have no idea what I'm doing here." Steve had had sex with precisely seven people in his life, all of them women. He wasn't sure how many people Bucky had actually slept with, he imagined it was probably in the triple digits, but he could count Bucky's relationships that had lasted more than one month on one hand. Three men, two women.

Bucky chuckled and pushed Steve back down on the bed to straddle Steve's hips. He ripped the condom open with his teeth and slid it onto Steve's penis with practiced ease, and added a smear of lube.

"Wait!" Steve exclaimed.

Bucky paused where he'd been ready to sink down on Steve's cock and shook his head. "What now?"

"Don't I need to…to you…I mean lube and…stuff?"

Bucky kissed him, hard and deep. "Taken care of, baby. In the bathroom—I know straight boys can be a little…hesitant. Just relax, Stevie. Let daddy take good care of you."

He sat back up and, this time keeping his eyes locked with Steve's, lowered himself slowly down onto Steve's cock.

He let out a long sigh of satisfaction and rocked his hips a few times to settle more comfortably.

"Oh, God…" Steve managed, "You're so tight."

"Hope so. God, I always wondered what your cock would feel like. Mmm, better than I imagined." He grinned, "You're allowed to touch me, you know."

Instead of waiting for Steve he grabbed Steve's hands and brought them to his chest, then down to his hips.

Steve finally caught on and gripped Bucky's hips firmly, tugging him back down each time Bucky undulated and rose up slightly.

"That's it, baby. Ahh…show me what you like. What you want."

"Kiss me," Steve said, "I want you to kiss me."

Bucky smiled, red lips curling up at the corners. He leaned in and kissed Steve again, rolling his hips and lifting slightly, then pushing back down, hard and fast.

Steve moaned "Not going to last long, you keep doing that. Been a long time, and you feel, God, you feel amazing."

"Hmm…so do you. So for once in your life, Stevie, just stop thinking and fuck me like you mean it."

Steve stopped thinking.

Later, after Bucky had come, moaning across Steve's stomach, and Steve had rolled them over to pound Bucky into the mattress chasing his orgasm, they lay side by side on their backs, covered in sweat, Steve said, "Wow, just wow. That was…mind-blowing. Can't believe I never did that before. We should do it again."

"Steve…" Bucky began, voice so soft that Steve barely registered it.

Steve went on, "Friends with benefits. Can't believe you never suggested it. Wow."

"Glad you liked it, Stevie," Bucky replied.

"Come'ere." Steve opened his arms and pulled Bucky to him. He toed the sheets until he could pull them up to cover them. "Were you going to say something?"

Bucky curled into Steve's side, "Nothing important."

Steve woke, a few hours later, disoriented in his own bed, to see Bucky creeping out of the room as if to go.

"Buck?"

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

"Were you leaving?"

"Well…I didn't want it to be awkward in the morning."

Steve held out his hand. "I have never kicked anyone out of bed in the middle of the night, and I don't intend to start now. Come back."

Bucky came back and Steve kissed him, soft, tender kisses on the edges of Bucky's lips, and up to the middle to suck lightly on Bucky's bottom lip. They made love, gently, without words. Just sliding against one another, Steve's hand wrapped around Bucky's, gripping both of their cocks until Steve gasped and came, pushing Bucky over as well.


	2. FWB

Bucky woke to the smell of coffee and bacon. He got his jeans from the bathroom and went into the main room to retrieve the rest of his clothes.

"Hey, sleepy head! You never answered my question last night. How do you want your eggs," Steve called out, disgustingly cheerful. I know you take your coffee black, touch of cream, lots of sugar." He passed Bucky a mug, which Bucky downed gratefully.

Bucky manged to smile once he'd drunk most of the coffee. He fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and scrolled through messages. "Shit, Steve, gotta' take a rain check on the breakfast. Got an audition for an industrial…series of industrials, good pay."

"Right now?" Steve asked, looking hurt.

"Yeah, sorry. Shit, I'm not even going to be able to go home. Can I shower…and, I hate to ask, but maybe borrow something to wear."

"Of course, mi casa, su casa, always has been."

Bucky gave a half-hearted smile and went back down the hall to the bathroom. He emerged 15 minutes later, wet hair slicked back wearing a green v-necked sweater of Steve's with a white t-shirt showing underneath. The sweater made Bucky's grey eyes almost green and Steve resolved to buy Bucky something green for Christmas. Steve shoved a plastic bag in Bucky's hand and a thermos of coffee.

"I made the eggs and bacon into a sandwich for you, and there's fresh coffee in the mug."

"Um, thanks, Steve," Bucky said quietly.

"About last—" they both began at once.

Steve giggled. Bucky didn't. "Last night was fan-fucking-tastic. Thanks for…I mean if there was anyone I was going to go gay for it would be…I mean thank you for making it so great. And I meant it. Friends with benefits with you sounds great."

Bucky sighed and said, "Yeah, it was great. Glad I could, um, broaden your horizons and stuff. I gotta' go, it's in the upper 40's."

"Go, go," said Steve as he gently propelled Bucky towards the door. "Don't forget to eat your sandwich, don't smoke too much, and break a leg."

At the door, Steve moved in for a kiss, Bucky moved in for a hug. If Steve noticed the awkward set of Bucky's shoulders he didn't let on.

"Bye, Bucky, and call me later, ok? I'll see you after work, or whatever your day holds."

Bucky looked startled, "After work?"

"Yeah, tapas place Sam wanted to try?"

"Oh, oh, yeah. See you then." He turned and jogged down the stairs.

Steve spent the day in a euphoric mood. A co-worker even commented on how happy he looked when she brought him proofs to review. He'd never considered going with a man, but he hadn't lied when he'd said it had been fantastic.

His two long term girlfriends, Peggy and Sharon, had been passionate women, but Bucky's sensuality, the way he touched his own nipples, slid his hands across his abs to his cock, then back onto Steve's thighs, was like sex personified. He checked his phone repeatedly for a text from Bucky but Bucky didn't write. Steve hoped it was because Bucky had had more auditions, or meetings, or whatever unemployed actors did between jobs.

Me: Hey, how did it go?

Me: Know you knocked it out of the park like always.

Me: What is an industrial anyway? I'm picturing you in a hard hat and reflective vest, but I'm pretty sure I'm wrong. I think you told me once, but I forgot.

Me: Buck? Guess you're busy. See you tonight, then.


	3. He doesn't know? He really doesn't know

"Hey, Steve," Sam exclaimed, raising his hand for a high five. Sam looked Steve over as he slid into the booth. "There's something different about you...not your haircut...not your old man clothes—"

"Hey, what about my clo—"

Sam grinned hugely, "YOU GOT LAID! 'Bout time, what's it been a year?"

Steve blushed, "It has not been a year! And what? Are you guys tracking my sex life?"

"Only 'cause we're worried about you. Need to get out there, man. And I gotta say, I am impressed. How'd you score a booty call. Last I saw you you and Barnes were heading off—"

Sam broke off, a look of horror on his face. "Oh, shit, no."

Steve looked down shyly, "Yeah, I mean, weird you know...but—"

"Oh, shit, man, this is bad. This is so bad."

"What's bad?" asked Clint sliding into the booth next to Steve with Natasha moving in behind him."

"Steve and Bucky had sex last night!"

Steve expected Natasha and Clint to laugh, but instead they both looked as stricken as Sam.

"Shit," echoed Clint.

Steve had expected some ribbing, but not this. "Oh, come on, guys. Yeah, I know it's a bit late to expand my sexual horizons, but I'd have expected all of you to be supportive. Happy even.

"It's not like it's a big deal. We've always said that it was great that we could all sleep with each other and still be friends. If anyone got serious, like Nat and Clint, the friends with benefits stopped, no hard feelings."

He was saved by Maria's arrival. "I mean, everyone at this table has slept with Maria and it's all fine."

Maria scowled as she slung her black, leather jacket over the back of a chair, "You slut shamming me, Rogers?" She, like Natasha, dressed was dressed head to toe in black. Steve wondered if it was some sort of dress code in the super-secret office where they worked.

"No! Exactly the opposite. They're all slut-shaming me, and I don't understand why."

"Steve slept with Bucky," Natasha said calmly, not looking as upset as the others, more concerned and thoughtful.

Maria glanced around the table, and to Steve's great surprise and annoyance said, "Oh, crap."

"WHAT?" Steve yelled a bit too loudly. "Et tu, Maria?"

Maria looked at everyone again, "He doesn't know? He really doesn't know?"

Sam shook his head, "Apparently not."

Steve gritted his teeth, "I. DON'T. KNOW. WHAT? Somebody better tell me what you guys are all up in arms about in the next five seconds or so help me—"

Maria leaned forward, "Steve, yeah, friends with benefits is great if...ok, remember when I first met you guys and kind of got sucked into the group? And Sam had that huge crush—"

Sam interrupted, "It wasn't a huge crush—"

"Yes it was!" Clint chortled.

Maria glared at Clint and went on, "Had that huge crush, and I _wouldn't_ sleep with him? Then he had that great fling with that nursing student Claire—you should try again there, Sam, she was great—and then when that ended we got together a few times?"

"Um, I guess so, but—" Steve started to say.

"Do you know why I didn't sleep with him then but had no problem sleeping with you guys later? It's because I don't like you guys." She waved her hands, "I mean I love you guys, but I'm not in love with any of you, and I didn't want to lead Sam on when he had that crush because it wouldn't have meant anything to me. We can all sleep with each other because we like each other but with the exception of the wonder twins here, none of us have ever really been in love with each other."

"I was in love with Peggy. And Sharon," Steve pointed out.

"Yeah, and none of us slept with them. They were kind of in the group because of you."

Steve pouted, "I still don't understand what you guys are ranting about. I'm not in love with Bucky."

The other four exchanged glances.

"What? Oh, come on! You cannot mean...you guys think Bucky's in love with me? That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."

Natasha reached across to take his hand, "Steve, Bucky's been carrying a torch for you since any of us knew what sex was. Before probably. He's been in love with you his whole life. And last I checked that hadn't changed."

Steve slumped back in his seat as if he'd been struck, but then he leaned forward again. "You guys are all crazy. Bucky is absolutely not in love with me. I've known him longer than any of you, and if he felt anything for me he would have told me, like he told me he was attracted to girls and boys when we were twelve. I don't know what you guys think you know, but you are wrong. One hundred percent wrong. And when he gets here he'll tell you and we'll all laugh and you guys can stop looking at me like I kicked a puppy."

But Bucky did not show up, and he did not send texts. The first part was normal—an actor's life, unexpected auditions, going for free to friend's shows to make sure the audience out-numbered the actors—but it wasn't like him to not text at least one person from the group. Usually Steve or Natasha. Steve shrugged it off as Bucky being Bucky. He'd show up the next night and everyone would laugh about how wrong they'd been.

While Steve was up buying a round, Natasha slipped off to the ladies' room.

"Bucky? You doing ok?" she asked when Bucky answered his phone.

"Steve TOLD you?"

"No, of course not. We guessed because he had that, 'I just had sex glow about him'. Sam figured out it must have been you. Steve's not known for having a string of backup booty calls on hand."

"It was fine, I'm fine. No big deal."

"Uh-huh. So?"

"So what?"

"How was it?"

"Jesus, Nat. It was fine. It was good. He was in the mood so I went for it. He didn't declare his undying love and say he'd been gay for me all along, but neither did he scream, 'oh, my God, you've got a penis,' so there's that."

"Fuck, that never happened, did it?"

"You'd be surprised. Straight boys can be fragile. Like they think bisexual means I have all the organs or something, or just take them off and put them on as needed. I try to avoid straight boys for that reason.

"You need to talk to Steve. He's freaking out a little."

"YOU TOLD HIM? Jesus, Natalia, I've only ever asked you for one solemn promise, to not tell Steve how I felt, and—"

"Calm down. It had to happen. After we all, maybe, overreacted to the fact that you and he had slept together—blame Sam—we had to tell him. We think—"

"Jesus," Bucky repeated. "What I think is maybe I need some new non-incestuous friends who know how to keep a promise."

"Would it help if I said I'm really sorry it happened like this, but we were forced into it because it happened. You never thought it would happen. That's why you need to sit down and talk to him alone. It could be really good."

"Or it could be the worst thing to ever happen. Second worst—I shouldn't have slept with him. I thought maybe…maybe it would get it out of my system."

"Did it?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

Natasha said, "I'll take that as a no."

"It's fine. Anyway, speaking of new friends, I've got to go; I've got someone coming over. We've been dancing around each other, seeing each other at classes and auditions, and today it clicked. Tell everyone hi, and especially say to Steve that I've got someone coming over.

"Thanks for the call, Natasha, but I am fine."

"He's not fine," Natasha said to Sam when she came out of the bathroom to find him waiting.

"Not fine as in we should go over their right now, or not fine as in some tears?"

"He says he has someone coming over, so I don't think it's going to one of those nights. I'll keep checking in with him."

"Yeah, because if he pulls that shit again, we are having an intervention where he fucking tells Steve how he feels, even if we have to sit on both of them."


	4. Steve and Peggy, sitting in a tree

2002

"Natasha is needed in the principal's office," Bucky said to Natasha's teacher. He had a piece of paper in his hand. It was blank, but the teachers never checked if Bucky or Natasha really had a hall pass. It was a perk of being two of the smartest and most responsible students in the school.

Natasha joined him in the hall, "This better be good, James. I like that class."

"I'm ditching the rest of the afternoon. Wanna join?"

"Hmm...," Natasha considered the rest of her day. "Fine, sure."

"Running an errand for the theatre department!" Bucky yelled at the office secretaries as they strolled out the front door.

They walked to the park and climbed to the top of the jungle gym. With practice Bucky had learned to put most of his weight on his good right arm, and was almost as agile getting up as Natasha.

"Got a cigarette?"

Natasha opened her silver cigarette case and handed him a long black cigarette.

"Don't you have any of those Gauloise? I hate these. I can always taste the metal in the gold tip."

"Sorry, Nana hasn't gotten her mail from Europe yet. The Sorbonnes are all I got left."

"Fine." Bucky lit his then held out the lighter for Natasha.

"So, James. What's going on?"

"Steve's going to give Peggy his class ring."

Natasha snorted. "Of course he is. Right out of 'It's a Wonderful Life.' He going to give it to her at the sock hop too?"

Bucky was silent.

"You're not surprised are you? I mean they've been going steady since, like our first school dance in what, fifth grade?"

"No...it's just—. It's just you know...now it's not kids stuff. It's like they're engaged."

"Oh, James, Bucky sweetheart, you don't still—"

"Have a crush on him? Yeah, still. I mean, I knew, I know he'll never be mine, but somehow, with it not being certain, it was easier, but now..."

"Ok, James, couple of things here. First, they're not engaged. He's giving her his ring and he'll let her wear his letterman jacket and they'll do their best impersonation of Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland, BUT this is still high school. None of that means they're engaged."

"He's wanted to marry her since—"

"Ah, ah, ah, I wasn't finished. Second, it's HIGH SCHOOL. People only marry their high school sweethearts and live happily ever after in cheesy rom-coms."

"My parents met in high school."

"Yeah, but they didn't date in high school, right? They hooked up later?"

"Yeah, but—"

"But nothing. I'll bet you a hundred dollars right now that Steve and Peggy will never get married. Not to each other."

"Just because your parents are divorced—"

"Still not finished talking. Third— third...have you ever told Steve how you feel? I mean, I know you came out to him and all..."

Bucky laughed bitterly and tossed his cigarette butt away.

"Only you can prevent playground fires," said Natasha primly.

"Shut up. Yeah, I came out to him, and he was fine with it, but he's straight as an arrow. He might as well be living in 1954. You wait until marriage until you have sex and you ask the girl to marry you and ask her father for permission—"

"Nineteen forty-six."

"What?"

"It's a Wonderful Life came out in 1946. Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland made the first Andy Hardy movie together in 1938 before she made The Wizard of Oz. Sorry, go on. You came out to him, but you didn't ask him to marry you, or declare your undying love."

"He wants two point five kids and a picket fence. He doesn't want me. Hell, I bet he has the kids names all picked out. Steve Jr., and little Peg, spitting image of her mother." He laughed sadly, "Might even name the second son Jimmy after his childhood friend."

"You should tell him."

"I can't do that. If I tell him...what if it disgusts him, or, or disappoints him or something. And you know Steve, he'll be really, really nice about it, but the friendship will be over, or at least not the same ever again."

"I think you're wrong."

"Duly noted. Natasha, promise you'll never, never tell him, ok? And make sure that Clint and Sam don't either. PROMISE!"

"Ok, ok, don't get your panties in a twist. I promise and I'll kick the boys into submission. Jeez. You wanna' get a burger, or go back to my place and play some video games?"

Natasha stood up, balanced on the top bar for a moment and then flipped backwards to land neatly in the dirt. Bucky dropped backwards until he was hanging by his knees then flipped as he fell to land a little less neatly beside her.


	5. Hi, Bucky, call me

A week went by and Bucky never did show up. He had various excuses as everyone texted him: reading scripts, going to a late audition, dropping in on a master class, had to be up early for an industrial shoot, hooking up. Nothing he hadn't done before, but never without showing up at least one or two nights.

And he wasn't answering calls from Steve at all.

"Hi, Bucky, it's Steve. I had a great time the other night, but I wasn't expecting anything serious. If it never happens again, or if you regret it, or…anyway, I miss you. Let me know how you're doing."

"Hey, buddy. Miss you at the nightly restaurant run. Everybody misses you. Hope you're ok, and not sick or anything. Just give me a call or a text to let me know you're alright."

"Hi, Buck, call me."


	6. What is love?

"He's avoiding me, isn't he? Because you guys were right, and I'm wrong, and somehow we've fucked up our friendship by sleeping together."

Sam and Natasha glanced at one another. Sam, as was his habit as a therapist said, "How do you feel about it, Steve, how do you feel about him?"

"I…I don't know. I miss him. I miss him a lot. I don't think we've ever gone so long without speaking since college when he studied abroad. It was—tmi—good, really good. I'd like it to happen again, but if he doesn't, that's ok too, but I just wish he'd talk to me. Maybe he isn't still in love with me and regrets it happened?" He looked up, hopeful, but Natasha and Sam's faces showed no signs of agreement.

"But how do you feel, Steve?"

"I…I really don't know. It was just out of the blue. He just looked…sexy, sensual, beautiful, and, maybe I was still drunk."

"Mm-hmm?" Sam asked again.

"I'm not in love with him. I mean, I don't think… I know you guys think I'm a prude, but I have had a one night stand. There's love, and there's lust, and pure frustration, but… I've always loved him. Since he befriended that skinny, asthmatic kid on the playground and saved him from bullies, but…in love with him. I'd have realized that a long time ago, right?"

Natasha chimed in, "Is there so big a difference? I mean really, between deepest friendship and being in love? Look at me and Clint. We were best friends since junior high. We slept together a few times, then it became regular and then, one day, just thinking, is this the person who knows me better than anyone, present company excepted. Is this the person I want to wake up next to every morning? Talk to every night?"

Sam nodded, "Think about it, Steve. I'm not pushing either way. Only you can decide. For the record, I do think that Bucky's being a bit of a coward about it. But I can't push him either."

"How can I figure it out if Bucky won't talk to me."

"Dunno, man, but the two of you can't go on like this."

"Yeah, I know."


	7. Silver Man and Iron Lung

Steve remembered calling Bucky beautiful once before. When Bucky was ten and Steve was nine they'd been studying together at Bucky's kitchen table while Steve's mother worked a late shift. It was a normal evening, just like dozens they'd had before.

Bucky and Steve were in charge of starting the pasta. They'd had to use the big, heavy pan to make enough since Mr. Barnes' brother and sister-in-law were coming over as well. It was too heavy for them to lift and pour, but Bucky's mother could when the pasta was done. She was on the phone with her sister in Arizona and Bucky and Steve had promised to call her when the pasta was ready.

Rebecca, Bucky's little sister, who was six, came in to bug them and Bucky told her to get lost. Instead she wandered over to the stove and reached up to the big metal pan. "Is the pasta done yet? I'm huuuunnnngggryyy, Bucky. Feed me."

In a scene that Steve would remember for the rest of his life he and Bucky looked up to see as Rebecca started to grab the black handle of the pot. She was just tall enough to reach it and just short enough that she had to pull down to get it to move. Bucky leapt across the room faster than Steve would have thought possible and gave Rebecca a shove that sent her sprawling just as the water started to tip out of the pan.

Steve was no stranger to pain. He'd had enough invasive procedures in his life to feel like an expert. The worst had been a spinal tap. But the thing about the pain he'd experienced was that he always knew it was coming. The hyper fear of the pain was almost always worse than the pain itself.

As the whole heavy pan of boiling water and spaghetti came down on Bucky's arm, knocking him to the floor, Bucky let out a scream so primal in its agony and shock that Steve thought that Bucky must be dying. Surely no one could make that noise and still live.

Rebecca, who'd picked herself up and started to turn to yell at her brother for pushing her, instead screamed as well as she took in the picture of Bucky, lying on the floor, the pan trapping his left arm. He struggled to pull his arm free and howled some more, and then threw up.

Steve rushed to Rebecca and pulled her in so that her face was buried in his shoulder. He was barely taller than she was.

Bucky's mother came running in, took in the scene, and immediately rushed to her son's side. She shoved the pot off of her son's arm and shouted, "Steve, call 911!"

"Uh, Becky, wanna' help me call the ambulance?" Steve asked as Rebecca struggled to pull free to go back to her brother.

"Bucky's dying!" she wailed, "He's gonna' die!"

"He's not going to die," Steve said, as soothingly as he could, although he wasn't sure of it himself. He grabbed the phone from its cradled, and punched in the three numbers, not letting Becky go.

"What's your emergency?"

"My friend, my friend got burned really bad. We need an ambulance to 47 Greengarden Lane, Brooklyn, please. Please hurry."

"He's dying!" Rebecca yelled again.

"Ok, I'm sending an ambulance right now. Son, are you there alone or are there adults with you?"

"No, no, Bucky's mom is here. We're ok."

The 911 operator asked a few more questions and by the time Steve hung up he could hear the sirens coming closer.

Bucky's mother had managed to get him up and was running cold water on his arm. Unbeknownst to any of them at the time, Bucky also had two broken bones in his arm from the weight of the pan. He was slumped against the counter, her weight the only thing holding him up, and his face was grey. He vomited into the sink again. His arm, what Steve could see of it was lobster red and starting to blister. The hot water and pasta still steamed on the floor.

"Steve," Bucky's mother called, "Why don't you take Rebecca down to the door to let the medics in."

"I wanna' stay with Bucky!"

"REBECCA, go with Steve!"

The EMTs came and their business-like efficiency seemed to calm everyone down a little. Mrs. Barnes wanted to go in the ambulance with her son.

As the EMTs took the stretcher down the stairs, she said, "Steve, I'm sorry to ask, but I need you to stay here with Rebecca. Bucky's father will be home in less than ten minutes, so you can tell him what happened. Can I count on you?"

"Of, course, Mrs. Barnes."

After the ambulance left, Steve and Becky sat on the couch in shock. Becky had stopped crying and just looked dazed. She pulled free of Steve's arm, and said, "I'll be right back."

She returned with a stuffed elephant and a small, stuffed cat. "For Bucky, to help him feel better," she sniffled.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Steve replied. He wondered if there was anything he could take to Bucky to help him feel better. He suspected that nothing would.

Mr. Barnes arrived with his brother and his wife, and Steve explained what had happened. Becky went home with her uncle and aunt wailing in protest. Mr. Barnes had no choice but to take Steve with him to the hospital.

Of course, Steve wasn't allowed to see Bucky, but fortunately most of the nurses knew him and fetched his mother. He sat in the nurse's station and sketched Bucky on paper from the recycling bin until he drifted off, head on his arms.

"Stevie?"

He woke to his mother gently shaking him.

"My shift's over. Let's go home."

"Is Bucky ok? Is he gonna be ok?"

His mother knelt next to his chair. Mrs. Rogers had never sugar-coated things for Steve about his own health and she wasn't going to start now. "Well, he has third degree burns on his whole forearm, and a couple of breaks, but he'll be ok. It will just take time. He's young, so he'll bounce back. He's got a long haul in front of him, but I know you'll be strong for him."

"Can I see him?"

"He's been sedated now, and he's going to have a few operations to set the bones, so it may be a few days, maybe a week, but I'll tell him that you're thinking of him every day, ok?"

"Ok."

"Let's go home."

It was actually two weeks before Steve was allowed to see Bucky. Bucky's arm was elevated and in an opaque tent that kept Steve from seeing it fully, but he could see the shadows of the long rods that were keeping the bones steady.

"Hey, Buck! I brought you some comics and I—"

"Go away, Steve! I don't want to see you."

"Buck!"

Bucky who had been staring at the window, suddenly turned to Steve, his too bright, blue eyes, full of fury. "This is your fault! You put too much oil in the water so the boiling water kept burning me! And we wouldn't have needed the big pot if you hadn't been mooching dinner with us like you always do!"

Steve gaped, tears springing to his eyes. The last wasn't true. Steve had been over dozens of nights on spaghetti night and his tiny portion hardly required the large pan. They'd used the big pan because of Bucky's aunt and uncle.

"Bucky! But—"

"Shut up, Steve. Shut up and just go. I don't want to see you anymore. Ever. GET OUT!" Bucky flinched as the vehemence of his outburst jostled his arm.

Steve ran from the room. His mother found him huddled in the hall sobbing into his knees.

"Stevie?"

"Bucky HATES me. I didn't put too much oil in the water, I didn't! And I wouldn't have eaten anything if it meant they didn't have to use the big pan. He told me we're not friends anymore. Mom! What am I gonna do if Bucky's not my friend? He's my best friend. I love him, and, and…"

Mrs. Rogers pulled Steve into her arms. "Oh, Stevie, it's ok. It'll be ok. Bucky doesn't hate you. He's in a lot of pain. You know how unhappy you are when you're in pain. He's just lashing out. It'll be ok. He just needs some more time. You'll see. He's still your friend, and if you have to be a little stronger for him right now, I know you can do it."

Steve kept sobbing into her shoulder. With the certainty of a nine-year-old, he didn't believe her.

But a week later he did try again. Bucky was thumbing through a magazine, and glanced up when Steve came in.

"Hi, Bucky. I brought you all the comics you've missed. If you want me to go I can just leave them. Or, I thought maybe we could read 'em together."

"Hi, Steve. Sure, whatever." Bucky's voice was flat and emotionless.

Steve pulled a chair up to the bed and spread the comics out. He sorted through them. Which one do you want to start with?"

"Doesn't matter."

"'Kay." He pulled out Spider Man. "Do you want me to read it, or you can and I'll turn the pages?"

"Whatever."

"Come on, Bucky. Mom says you're doing really well and you're being really brave."

Bucky looked at Steve and a few tears ran down his cheeks. "You don't get it, Steve. Nobody gets it. I want to be an actor. It's all I've ever wanted, but you have to be beautiful to be a movie star, and now…now I'm hideous." He nodded his head towards the tent that hid his arm. "You haven't seen it without the bandages. It's so awful."

Steve spoke without thinking. "But, Bucky, you're still beautiful."

Bucky stared at him. "You think I'm beautiful?"

Steve shrugged, "Well, yeah. Look at you."

Bucky shut his eyes. "Was. I was good looking."

"Nah! It's just your arm. So you gotta wear long sleeves or something. Leather jackets, maybe like James Dean. They're gonna cast you because of your face, and 'cause you're super talented."

Bucky plucked at the blankets with his right hand, and ruffled the comics around. "You think so?"

"Of course. You always say I can't lie for shit."

Bucky looked up and for the first time, smiled. "Ooo, Steve, how many hail Mary's you gonna have to say for cussin'"

Steve laughed, the huge weight that had been pressing on his chest since Bucky had screamed at him, really since the night of the accident, lifting. "Ah, I ain't no choir boy, and you know it.

"Hey! Maybe, maybe you can get some sort of fake arm from Stark Tech, all shiny and stuff! Make you a super-hero."

Bucky laughed, only flinching slightly as his left arm was disturbed. "Yeah? So you'll be my sidekick?"

"Pfft," Steve replied. "Look at me, I can't be a side-kick. What am I gonna be, Asthma Boy?"

"Nah, you gotta be my side-kick. If Stark gives me a silver arm, I'll get him to fix your lungs too. We can be cyborgs together. Half man, half machine."

"Silver Man and Iron Lung! I gotta sketch this. Let me get some paper."

They spent every afternoon making up stories that Bucky narrated and Steve drew. There were still bad days—days after the burns had been cleaned, and especially after the first skin grafts became infected and had to be cut away, but most of the time Steve could cheer Bucky up with silly pictures.

With Steve's encouragement Bucky worked hard in his physical and occupational therapy, even when it left him shaking and crying, so that by the time they started high school he had almost full mobility. He did wear his neoprene sleeve all the time except when showering, even swimming in public, and long-sleeves most of the time, but for the most part if someone didn't know about it, they would never guess that there was anything wrong with his left arm.


	8. Rom-coms are popular for a reason

"So," Natasha said, as she and Sam ate lunch, "In your expert opinion, do you think Steve could fall in love with Bucky?"

Sam sighed and moved some ketchup around with a fry. "You know I don't psycho-analyse friends."

"But do straight men sometimes…"

"I dunno. I've had people on my couch before, freaking out because they've suddenly started noticing the back-sides of people of the same sex. Men and women."

"What do you tell them?"

"To let themselves feel what they're feeling without judgement, of themselves or others. To ask themselves if they've ever been attracted, perhaps not sexually, but deeply and emotionally to people of the same sex. I'd ask them what was going on in their lives otherwise. If there's already a significant other of the opposite sex, if it's a general feeling, or more centred on one person in particular. A lot of times they'll realize that the latent feelings have always been there, but they've repressed it or ignored it because of societal norms, or upbringing, or any number of things."

"And?"

"And what? I've had all reactions. From people stopping seeing me because I won't 'cure' them of their feelings. To seeing it as a minor aberration brought on by divorce, or widowhood, or middle-age, or uncertainty in life. And yes, to realizing and acting on their feelings with mixed results which we then talk through as well. But these are my patients, not my friends. I know Bucky and Steve too well to be objective, and I'm NOT their therapist, and I don't want to be, shouldn't be. We carried Bucky's secret for well over ten years, all the while thinking Steve would finally realize and the big talk would come, but I know I didn't expect the sex to come before the talk. Obviously Steve doesn't have any hang ups about sleeping with a man, but that's a long way from being in love with Bucky."

"For what it's worth, I think he could be. In love with Bucky. I think…I think he might already be."

"Yeah, for what it's worth?"

"I mean, think about it. Neither of them has ever had a relationship as enduring or as deep, not really. They've lived in each other's pockets all their lives. They finish each other's sentences—"

"And sandwiches," Sam added.

"And sandwiches," Natasha grinned and stole some fries. "Steve thinks Bucky's beautiful," she went on. Always has. And obviously has no objections, like you said, to Bucky's body. Steve's the one trying to get Bucky to talk to him, and it's Bucky who's shutting him out."

"Bucky's scared."

"I know. And Steve loves a challenge."

"I'd hate to see Steve try to convince himself he's in love with Bucky, and then realize it's just sex. It would devastate Bucky. I think that's what Bucky's most afraid of."

"I think Steve's too honest—even with himself—to do that. He won't start anything if he's not sure."

"I'll agree with you there. But he can also be too stubborn for his own good. He desperately wants to patch things up with Bucky. He now knows Bucky's always been in love with him, and he'll want to do whatever it takes to get Bucky back to his side.

"But, Natasha, whatever you do, don't jump into this. This is something they need to work through on their own. We can only support whatever they decide to do."

"Thank you, Dr. Wilson. I know that—and I'm not known for dabbling in other people's emotions. That's why I have Clint."

"Don't let Clint do anything either."

"He doesn't want the grief. He's just worried, and I guess I am too, that it will tear the group apart. That one of them, probably Bucky, will just withdraw from all of us rather than face Steve. Like he's already doing.

"Would it be interfering if you just pushed them to talk to one another? Like you once said, sit on them if needs be?"

"It's a slippery slope. After Steve, you've always been the one closest to Bucky."

"And you with Steve. Couldn't we just nudge them towards one another?"

"Thought you hated the cheesy rom-coms where the friends make accidental/on-purpose schemes to get the two stupid lovers together."

"Yeah, well, rom-coms are popular for a reason."


	9. If the mountain won't come to Muhammad

Steve sat doodling at his desk, the logo he was supposed to be working on ignored on his monitor. He found himself sketching Silver Man and Iron Lung for the first time in almost fifteen years. It turned into a drawing of Steve as Iron Lung gazing adoringly at Silver Man. His conversation with Sam and Natasha played through his mind on a never-ending loop. Was he in love with Bucky? Could he be? Bucky, always there for him, always protecting him until Steve had gotten the new drugs in junior high that finally allowed him to become healthy and strong. And after, in other ways.

He thought about their crazy little group of friends. He and Bucky in first grade, then Sam in third grade when the awkward, super smart black kid had started at their school. Natasha, still heavily accented, coming in in fourth, but confident and sassy as all hell, with her crazy background, parents divorced, father always away in Europe on business, and mother busy finding herself in some commune or other, raised by a strict, but wildly permissive babushka of a grandmother. "Russian children strong. Vodka and cigarettes—live longer. Mama, healthy at ninety, grandmama, be one hundred and ten if not Stalin."

An odd little group of misfits, completely devoted to one another.

Then Peggy. Beautiful, confident, oh, so British Peggy. Fifth grade. Steve had taken one look at her and been both elated and devastated. Elated because he believed it was love at first sight, devastated because he knew that the delicate, porcelain doll-like Peggy would never notice him. But miracle of miracles, she did. She saw in him something that only Bucky, Sam, and Natasha had seen before. He'd stumbled through an awkward invitation to the winter dance, the kid's first, and to his shock, Peggy said yes. Had Bucky already been in love with him then? Bucky congratulated him, cheered with him, and when, ten years later, Peggy had broken their engagement of two years, to go to Oxford rather than staying in America with Steve, consoled him.

Bucky at twelve, working therapy putty with his left hand as Steve struggled through his math homework asking, out of the blue, what Steve thought about when he jerked off.

"What the h, e, double l, Buck? Whad'ya asking that for?"

"You can say hell, Steve. It's a word. Just wondering. Do you think about Peggy?"

Steve stammered and blushed, "No, that would be…disrespectful."

"Aw, jeez, Steve, calm down. I'm not asking if you have bondage fantasies or somethin'. Just wonderin'."

Steve chewed on his pencil. "Nah, just, kinda body parts, you know. Christy Turlington, maybe. What about you, then? Since you're askin'"

Bucky squeezed the putty some more until it popped. "I…I think about boys and girls."

"Oh," said Steve. "Oh, so…you think you might be gay?"

"Yeah. I think I might be gay, or whadda they call it, bisexual. Does it bother you?"

"Why would it? Just don't hit on Peggy, ok?"

Bucky looked surprised, "Course not! She's your girl. Just cause I'm gonna be bi doesn't mean I'm gonna hit on everything that moves, jeez. 'Sides, she's only got eyes for you."

"What about you and Natasha?"

"Ha! Natasha will be cuttin' off guys balls and wearing 'em around her neck."

"Ew, Bucky, that's a terrible thing to say!"

"Hey, calls 'em like I sees 'em."

High school brought Clint into their group. Even from the beginning there had been something stronger between Clint and Natasha. Clint had had a wild childhood with nomadic and frequently absent parents that mirrored Natasha's own.

Maria, first year at NYU, fitting in right after Steve lost Peggy, including a wild, somewhat drunken one night stand. And then Sharon, junior year. Steve proposed. By bizarre coincidence Sharon happened to be Peggy's American cousin. She was bright, bubbly, outgoing, fun in the group, but on reflection, Steve remembered that Bucky had harboured a slight animosity towards Sharon from the beginning.

But through it all, Bucky. Highs and lows, self-doubt and grief. It had been Bucky he'd turned to when his mother died, not Peggy. Bucky whose shoulder he'd cried on when Peggy left. Bucky who'd been picking him up and dusting him off both literally and figuratively since he was small. And Bucky, with whom he'd shared his most secret thoughts and desires. Bucky, whose opinion had always mattered the most. Was that more than friendship, more than the love between friends? Had there been times after Bucky became sexually active at sixteen when Steve had felt a pang of jealously that he'd dismissed as concern for his friend's mental and physical health? And had Bucky become more wild after Steve proposed to Peggy? Beautiful, kind, funny, sensitive Bucky.

"Buck, I really need to talk to you. Call me."

"Bucky, it's Steve. Call me, it's important."

"God dammit, Bucky, talk to me. It can't go on like this."

"Bucky, please. I miss you. I'm going crazy. We can figure this out."

"Bucky, please let me know you're ok."

"Bucky, it's Steve. I think— Call me."

Finally, Steve had had enough. If Bucky wouldn't meet him half-way, wouldn't even call him back, then Steve would go find Bucky.


	10. Being Alive (Miss Flo-Rida approves)

He stood outside Bucky's apartment after work and waited until Bucky came out at six-thirty. Bucky looked tired, but Steve's heart still skipped a beat. Yes, he thought, there it is. If this isn't being in love, then nothing is.

"Steve? What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you."

"Um, great, but I can't chat, I'm going to a friend's play reading."

"Ok, I'll come too."

"You can't! I mean, it's a really small venue, invitation only."

"Then I'll go to a bar and hang out until it's over."

Bucky rubbed his hand through his hair, "Steve…just, don't…I can't…"

"Child, this man, this GOR-GE-OUS man, bothering you?" Flo-Rida, Bucky's neighbour strode up to them. Steve had met Flo once or twice in passing but never really talked to her, but she was hard to miss. Tonight she was wearing day-glo orange hot pants, legs bare despite the chill, and a pink angora sweater. She was perhaps six foot five in her stockinged feet, wore two to four inch platforms at all times (tonight obviously being a casual night, they were a modest two) and a beehive that had to bring her up over seven feet. She made Steve feel small.

Steve smiled, "Good evening, Miss Flo-Rida."

"Ooo, polite. I like him already. Going to introduce us finally?"

Bucky mumbled, "Steve Rogers, Flo-Rida, Steve, Miss Flo."

They shook hands, Flo-Rida drooping hers over Steve's in a gesture that gave him a strong desire to lean down and kiss it. He didn't. Her nails were painted a bright green that stood out against her Zimbabwean skin, although Steve suspected her origins were much closer to her chosen name than she might like.

"Saw you hovering from my window, so I gots to ask, what are your intentions towards my baby boy Bucky? 'Cause I gotta look after my precious Dr. Sweetass." Bucky's character on the soap was Dr. Sweetman. Fans had quickly turned that into Dr. Sweetass to Bucky's horror and his friend's great amusement. Steve knew from Bucky that Flo-Rida had been instrumental in getting him the apartment. She had seen him with the realtor and shrieked to the whole building that Dr. Sweetass was going to be living with them. The realtor didn't stand a chance.

What the hell, thought Steve, "Bucky's been avoiding me. I thought I might catch him if I waited."

Flo-Rida turned to Bucky. "You been avoiding this man? He do something bad?'

Cornered, Bucky could only say, "No, not bad, just perhaps something we both regret."

"I don't regret it at all, Bucky," said Steve. "It was wonderful. I'd like it to happen, often, all the time if you're amenable."

Bucky shut his eyes in a pained expression.

Flo-Rida looked between the both of them. "Bucky, do you need me to slap you upside the head? 'Cause don't think I won't. This fine, fine man comes all the way to Redhook to talk to you. And you don't wanna give him the time of day?"

She sidled up to Steve, "You know you can't leave something this quality out on the sidewalk, people think it's free to take. I been thinkin' I need something new to sit on." She winked at Steve. He blushed.

"Now, then Imma gonna go inside to leave you gentlemen to work it out. But I'll be watchin' from my window, make sure you don't come to fisticuffs."

"Thank you, ma'am," Steve replied. "Bucky and I are old friends, best friends since we were kids. I'm sure it won't come to that."

"Hmpf," said Flo-Rida. "He's a good man, Bucky. You listen nicely." And with that she sashayed back into the building.

"Oh, God," Bucky sighed. He looked up. Tonight his hair was in a tiny pony-tail so his hair wasn't falling in his face, and he looked pained. Steve still thought he was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen.

"What do you want, Steve."

"To talk…to tell you I love you."

"Terrific, I love you too. Can I go?"

"I…I'm in love with you. I don't want friends with benefits. I want us…us to be together."

Bucky looked at him coldly, "Jesus, Steve. What the hell is wrong with you. One roll in the sack and you're in love. You haven't been in love with me for the past twenty years, you think you're gay all of a sudden?"

Steve found himself responding more heatedly than he meant to match Bucky's hostile tone. "No, I think I've been in love with you for twenty years and I've been too stupid to realize it because I never felt this way about any other man. I've never…felt this way about any woman, either.

Bucky took a few steps away and then came back angry. "This is what I didn't want! This awkwardness. That you can't do anything casual. I know you, Steve. I know you. You give your all all the time. You think because we had good sex, because you thought I was sexy when you were drunk and going through a dry spell that it means that we're going to live happily ever after? It's not easy being gay, Steve, it's not something you pick up and put down. You say you want more than FWB? How do you know? How do you know it's not just some early mid-life crisis? Or some wild story you've convinced yourself to get me to come back to the group?

"Because there will come a point when having me as a good fuck won't be enough for you. You'll meet another Peggy, or Sharon, they must have another cousin somewhere, hot aunt, precocious niece, and you'll see a future with them, the house, the kids, the dog, and you won't…you won't want me as a filler anymore. And I…I won't be able to handle that, so better that we call the other night a fluke, and in six months or a year, we won't even remember one stupid night—"

"Boy, you've got my whole life mapped out, don't you? Did you ever think I might want to live it in real time? Stumbling forward, just like always, messy and human and real.

Steve looked at the ground then met Bucky's eyes, "Do you know why Peggy and Sharon broke up with me? Ended our respective engagements? You say I go all in, but they both said that no matter how much I gave, how committed to them I said I was, there was always something I was holding back. And I think, now, looking back, I think I couldn't give that last little bit because it belonged to you. I'd given it to you a long, long time ago. Maybe I do leap into things too fully and too fast, maybe I get—Peggy said I was dramatic, I remember saying no, that's Bucky—but I know, have always known that you're my best friend, my other half. My soul mate, I guess. And if I was too stupid not to think that meant being in love, well, I'm sorry. I am in love with you Bucky. I love to talk to you, and tease you. And I loved waking up and looking over and seeing your sleeping face drooling on the pillow. I loved it when we were kids and I loved it the other morning. I don't have the answers. I think it's forever. I think it's been forever all along. I love you. I loved making love to you. You kiss really good. You feel really good. And I promise, I will never hurt you. If we talk, really tell each other everything, be honest, then it will work out. I believe that. I really believe that. You will never lose my friendship, Bucky. I promise you that. No matter what happens, six months, six years, you are my best friend. Unless you cheat on me. Then I will have to dismember your body in the bathtub, wrap the pieces up in shower curtains and drop them in various dumpsters around the city.

In spite of himself, Bucky chuckled. "Duly noted." Then he shook his head and said, with more resignation than anger, "What if it's me? What if I can't be faithful? I like sleeping around, keeping it fun and new, without strings. Hell, I liked having my pick of groupies. What if this was just a stupid childhood crush that I let get out of hand, and now, with time I'll get it out of my system, and we'll all go back to the way we were?"

"Sam and Natasha don't think so."

"Well, there's a ringing endorsement."

"Sam's a serial monogamist, and Natasha hasn't looked at anyone else since she and Clint got together, really together. I think they might know a little. And they know us."

"How well does anyone know anyone, Steve."

"Profound. But I know you, and you know me. Better than anyone. More importantly, I know me. I want this. I want this with every fibre of my being, and I think…I think you do too."

He paused, "That's what you were going to say, wasn't it? When I interrupted you and went charging on about friends with benefits. You were going to tell me."

"Maybe. I don't know. But FWB was your first thought, so let's leave it at that."

"I've had a lot of thoughts since then. Done a lot of soul searching. Figuring out what it all means, and I…I am in love with you. Nobody else. What I felt when I saw you come out your front door tonight, that was real, it was different from anything I've ever had, and it was real. I've been running away from it all my life like the choir boy I am, but I'm done running.

"Your right, nobody can make any perfect promises. Things happen, but that doesn't mean you don't take the chance."

"I'm…I've decided to move to LA," Bucky said abruptly.

Steve pulled back and blinked a few times. "Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yeah, ok. I'll miss the gang, but that's what Skype is for. And planes."

"We haven't even decided if this is what we both want, and you're going to move across the country with me?"

"Yeah."

Bucky chuckled, "Peggy was right. You are dramatic."

"You love me for it."

"Maybe."

"Maybe you love me?"

"Said I loved you, didn't I? Never said I wanted to move in with you. Besides, you have a job, a good job here. I'm an actor, Steve. We'll end up living in a one-room shack in South Central."

Steve shrugged. "Pretty sure there are graphic design companies in LA. My office even has a branch out there. I'll look into open positions."

Bucky shook his head again, but he had a sweet half smile on his face. This time a few hairs fell loose from his ponytail. Steve took a step forward to brush them back and let his hand linger on Bucky's cheek.

"You're a stupid punk, you know that, Roger?"

"And you're a jerk who leaves wet towels on the floor and only washes the dishes he needs at the moment. See, we know the worst about each other already. Lots of couples don't know that going in."

"We going in?"

"I'd love to go in. In fact, I'd love to go into your apartment right now and learn more about the gay sex."

Bucky laughed fully this time, but didn't pull his face away from Steve's hand. "Oh my God, I can't believe you just said that."

"So?"

"Ok, Steve, we'll try this. I probably won't get my shit together to move for at least another month or so. If it's good, if it's still good, we'll see. If not, the distance will give us time to…move on."

"It will be. I promise. It will be good."

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yeah, ok."

"So we can go inside now? Or do you still need to go to that reading?"

Bucky moved closer and put his arms around Steve's waist. "Pretty sure I missed the beginning. I guess I'll be spending a quiet night in."

"Oh, I don't intend to keep it quiet." Steve leaned that little bit down and kissed Bucky. After a second's hesitation Bucky kissed back.

There was a whoop from a second-floor window that sounded suspiciously like a certain Miss Flo-Rida, formerly of Savannah by way of Boca Raton.

This time Steve wanted to take it slow. It wasn't like a drunken fumble. This time it was about convincing Bucky that Steve loved him. He followed Bucky upstairs, and once the door was closed, locked, double bolted and chained, and jackets shed, took him into his arms in a soft embrace. He pulled the elastic from Buck's hair and let it fall to the ground. Only then did he run his fingers through Bucky's soft hair and kiss him as he had on the street.

Bucky's apartment, unlike Steve's consisted of one long room, a narrow bathroom and a tight galley kitchen. Bucky had walled off a sort of bedroom with a floor to ceiling bookshelf made of bricks and board. Steve took his hand and walked him to the bed. He took his time, peeling off his own shirt and then undressing Bucky piece by piece, pausing to kiss him gently, nothing more heated than a press of lips. Bucky remained silent, blue-grey eyes just watching as though he couldn't quite believe what was happening.

"Steve, I need to…"

"Get prepped?"

"Yeah."

"Is it enjoyable, getting…ready?

"It can be."

"Then I should learn how to do it, shouldn't I?"

"Steve…"

"Shhh. Where do you keep the stuff?"

Bucky fished around in the milk crate that served as a nightstand, and passed a bottle of lube and a condom to Steve.

Steve gently parted Bucky's legs, even bending them for him, and setting his feet flat on the bed. He then slid down and gave Bucky's soft cock a few strokes. He rubbed lubricant onto his fingers and gently slid them down Bucky's perineum and back to his balls. He did that a few more times until Bucky's cock started to harden. Then he took Bucky into his mouth while he softly ran his fingers along Bucky's asshole.

It was strange. It was salty, and a little bitter, and nothing sweet like a woman's arousal, but the weight of it in his mouth as it hardened had a pleasure all its own. Even sweeter were Bucky's sounds, surprised, breathless, and finally moaning, low and rough. Only then did he try to slip a finger inside. He kept going until he could ease in two, adding more lube, and then twisted them to find the prostate. Bucky groaned. Steve kept up the slow pace, enjoying Bucky's struggle to bear down, or to thrust up.

"Fuck, Steve, you're gonna make me come."

"Yeah? Pretty sure that's what FWB is all about."

Snort, gasp, "Where'd you learn…oh, Godddd…"

"Internet. So helpful."

"Fuck me."

"That an insult or a command?"

"Both, come here."

It was good. Better than the first time, pleasurable as that had been. Steve had always preferred long-term relationships to casual sex, and this was perhaps the ultimate in long-term relationships, a study in waiting too long. Steve whispered 'I love you. I love you so much, Bucky. Can't believe I didn't see it before. You're so beautiful, God. I love you."

Bucky still looked dazed, and when he came, he whispered Steve's name like a prayer.

After, after laying side by side gasping for breath at the intensity of their orgasms Bucky kissed Steve, as gently as Steve had first kissed him, then said, "I need a cigarette, sorry."

Steve laughed, "After that, I might just take it up too."

Bucky shrugged on a fuzzy, fleece bathrobe, obscene in lavender with huge yellow stars, grabbed his cigarettes, opened the apartment's only window, and leaned out to blow cigarette smoke into the night.

"That is a terrible bathrobe. Did you find it at a Goodwill?"

"It was a gift," Bucky chuckled.

Steve felt a pang of jealousy that he quickly smothered. Bucky had a past. Steve had a more vanilla past, but he had been engaged twice. He couldn't be possessive, he couldn't scare Bucky away.

But Bucky read his mind, just as they always had, with one major exception.

"A gift from Becky. You know you're probably going to meet a lot of people that I've slept with over time. If that's a problem, you gotta tell me now, because—"

Steve shrugged, "It is what it is. I still talk to Peggy and Sharon. Will that bother you? Anyway, we're moving to LA, right? You can't have slept with as many people there, I assume. Could be wrong. New beginning, nothing else matters from this point on. As long as I don't have to fight your ex-lovers to win you."

Bucky put his cigarette into an empty beer bottle he kept on the windowsill. "No, don't think any of them would care enough to fight you for me.

"Their loss. My gain."

"Sap."

"Yeah," Steve grinned. Then, "You're still scared."

"Yeah, aren't you?"

"No. Come back to bed."

"Cigarette breath and all?"

"We'll figure that out later. For now, just come back to bed. 'Don't be afraid it won't be perfect. The only thing to be afraid of really is that it won't be.'"

Bucky's jaw dropped, "Are you quoting Broadway lyrics at me? Only Natasha gets to do that."

"It was your senior recital song."

"You…you remember that?"

"Of course. It was amazing. 'Somebody, crowd me with love, Somebody, force me to care, I'll always be there, as frightened as you, to help us survive.' I'd love to hear you sing it again, but right now, I'd rather have you stop talking, stop thinking, and come back to bed."


	11. One of those nights

"Hey, Buck, wanna get back at Sam and Nat for keeping this a secret?" Steve asked as they dressed, Steve in his dirty clothes. He'd called in to say he'd be late and planned to stop by his apartment, maybe take a quick nap. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before.

Bucky looked uncomfortable, "Um, Steve…"

"What, it'll be great."

"There was this time…Sam and Nat were there for me, and…"

Steve stopped dressing and turned to him. "What?"

"It's nothing, just forget it, I just…we shouldn't prank them, that's all."

"Bucky, what happened. No secrets, remember."

Bucky scrubbed his hand through his hair. "Look, you remember when you proposed to Sharon?"

"Yeah, about a year out of college."

"Well, I took it hard…a lot harder than I should have."

"Bucky…?"

"It wasn't…it wasn't just that. My contract with the soap was up for review, a pilot I'd be hoping for fell through, I was worried that all I'd ever end up doing was soaps…"

"Bucky!"

"Anyway, I got really drunk, and maybe, took some sleeping pills…and I mean, I didn't want, didn't really want…I called Natasha. She called Sam. I begged them not to take me to a hospital, 'cause it would get into the papers…"

"Oh, my God."

"No, it was fine. They walked me around my apartment all night until I sobered up—"

"I'm going to kill them."

"Steve! I begged them, made them promise not to tell you, because then they'd have to tell you why, and why I didn't call you, and…and it would have been a mess, and it was no big deal, please, please don't blame them. They were just doing what I asked."

"Oh, my God," Steve repeated and sat down heavily in a chair. "Bucky, you could have DIED! What would I have done then? What would they have told me then?"

Bucky knelt beside him, "Steve, please, I was an idiot. Please, just don't"

Steve stared at him for a few heartbeats. "Now we totally have to prank them."


	12. The Biggest Assholes in the Universe

Steve pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. He had a big grin on his face.

Sam looked at him for a few seconds. "What's up Steve? You and Bucky…"

Steve laughed and said, "Bucky, no, no, it's fine, but you guys, I've found someone."

"Steve," Sam began, "Are you sure you're thinking straight, I mean the whole thing with Bucky, you might just—"

Steve interrupted, "No, I know what you're thinking, but Bucky and I will be fine. But this…this is it, guys. I know, I know I've said that before, but this is someone special. It's someone I've known a long time but never really knew them, before, if you know what I mean, it's just magical."

Seemingly unbeknownst to Steve, Bucky was walking up behind him, taking off his jacket, as if to join the group.

"Steve!" Nat said quickly."

"No," Steve went on, "I've got to tell you how wonderful this person is! Their smile, their laugh, I just feel more at home—"

"Steve! Stop!" Sam yelled.

Bucky caught the end of Steve's words. He looked stricken. He clutched his jacket as if he was going to turn and run.

"What?" Steve asked, all innocence. He turned, "Oh, hey, Bucky. I was just telling everyone how amazing you are."

Bucky's horrified expression instantly changed to delight. He slid into Steve's lap without missing a beat and kissed him.

Clint slammed his palm on the table and yelled, "OH MY GOD!"

Natasha looked disapproving. Sam put his head in his hands, and Maria said, "You two are the biggest assholes in the universe."

Bucky looked up, "Hey, I didn't get nominated for a daytime Emmy two years running for nix."


	13. California Dreaming

TEN MONTHS LATER

"Hi, everybody!" Steve waved from the monitor screen at Sam, Natasha, Clint and Maria.

"Hi, Steve!" they chorused.

"Hey, Bucky, get over here. The gang is waiting.

Bucky wedged into the frame. "Hi, gang."

"Hey, man," Sam said, "You both look great. Guess we all should take some California air. How's it going?"

"You're welcome to visit. If you don't mind a sleeping bag on the floor between the tv and the futon."

Natasha laughed, "If I wanted sun, there are better places to go than LA, right, Clint?"

"Yeah, yeah," Clint laughed. "When I win the lottery. Not all of us can have super-secret, high-paid, Stark jobs."

Sam chuckled, "We ever going to see you guys face to face again?"

"We're planning on coming back at Christmas for a couple of weeks," Steve replied. "Bucky needs to see his family. Guess we can grab a bite with you guys, if we have the time."

"Yuk it up, smart guy," said Maria.

Steve went on, "We're doing really well out here-."

Bucky cut in, "But we can't talk about it, right, Steve?"

"Oh, my God," said Clint. "Don't tell me you joined Stark Tech too. Between the ninety-three confidentiality agreements these two had to sign, and Sam having to keep patient confidentiality, am I the only one in the group who doesn't have secrets they can't tell?"

Steve grinned, and kissed Bucky's jaw. "Well, we can say that Bucky, after some commercials and guest spots—"

"Yay, Buck" the gang chorused.

Bucky made a mock bow as if accepting accolades.

Maria added, "You made a great falsely accused suspect on Lucifer."

"Thanks, beats the time I was a rapist on SVU."

Sam added, "You made a beautiful corpse when the rape victim shot you."

"I think it was your best work," said Natasha dryly.

"Ha, ha, Nat." Bucky replied.

"Anyway," Steve went on, "we can say that Bucky has a pilot in the works with some very big names attached."

"Steve," Bucky nudged him warningly.

"Grrr, argh," Steve laughed. "Let's just say we'd be very bad robots if we said any more."

"Wow!" yelled Maria.

Bucky held up his hands, "Not a word, to ANYONE. There, Clint, now you have a secret. Seriously, if they found out I said anything…I'd be off the um, alleged show, and probably never work in this town again.

"Anyway, Steve has some news, too, maybe a little less secret."

Steve blushed.

"Tell," said Sam.

Bucky went on, "Steve got a portfolio together, and has been shopping it around, a little DC interest, a little Marvel."

Steve shook his head, "Maybe just Dark Horse, but…"

Clint said, "But nothin', bud. That's awesome."

"I think Dark Horse might be best. He'd be able to jump out of the gate, no pun intended, with some of his own ideas. He'd have to work his way up to do that at the big boys."

Steve held up his hands, "It's a long shot, way down the road, if anything, still doing logos and branding for the time being.

"Oh, my GOD!" Natasha suddenly shrieked. "YOU GOT MARRIED? You bastards!"

"What," said Clint looking at his girlfriend like she'd suddenly become psychic.

"The rings! The rings!" Maria yelped.

"Yeah," Steve laughed.

Sam said, "You're not supposed to get married without us! What the hell?"

"There are bachelor parties, and embarrassing best man, or woman, speeches!" Clint complained.

Bucky shushed them, "We know, we know. It was just…completely spur of the moment. We'll party at Christmas and you can tell embarrassing stories then."

"We went to Vegas—" Steve began.

"And you know how Vegas is, chapel on every corner," Bucky continued.

"And I saw, one where you could get married by superheroes," Steve added. "We got married by Superman! How cool is that?"

Bucky grinned, "Alcohol may have been involved."

Steve smiled up at him, "But not so much that either of us regretted it in the morning. Love you, Buck."

Buck beamed back at him. "Love you too, my straight husband."

"Oh, God," said Sam, "they're getting sappy, time to sign off. But you guys owe us big time, remember that. And I haven't forgotten the heart stopping prank."

"Tequila shots!" yelled Maria and Natasha together.


End file.
